


A Family For Christmas

by the-captains-ayebrows (EscapistFiction317704)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Bailbonds!Emma, Banter, Christmas, Eventual Smut, F/M, Lawyer!Killian, Mild Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapistFiction317704/pseuds/the-captains-ayebrows
Summary: Attorney Killian Jones's world is rocked when learns that his estranged father has passed away and that he may have a half-brother he never knew about. The very same day, Emma Swan walks into his office asking for his help in adopting the son she gave up years ago -  a child she somehow managed to track down after years in the foster system.  Is it fate? Can they each help the other find the family they are seeking in time for Christmas?Otherwise known as: I watched too many Hallmark/Lifetime/FreeForm Christmas movies and this is what happened.Merry Christmas to the fabulous Shady-Swan-Jones! I'm your Gutter Flower Secret Santa!





	1. Chapter 1

“Italian or Chinese?”

“Well I should think he’d be English, obviously, much like my dashing self.” Killian nudged Emma’s shoulder teasingly. “Bloody hell, Swan, what kind of detective are you?”

Emma rolled her eyes. They were two hours into another evening of scouring every corner of the internet for a trace of Killian’s elusive probable half-brother, but yet again the trail had gone frustratingly cold.

“I meant for dinner, wise-ass.” 

With a disgruntled shake of her head, she turned her attention back to her laptop, her delicate features bathed in the blue glow of the screen. “I was about to offer to go get us some take out, but if we’ve already moved into the irritate-Emma-for-the-hell-of-it portion of the evening, you can go haul your scrawny English ass out in the snow to pick it up.”

Killian scoffed in mock affront. “First of all, my arse is neither scrawny nor wise, though it’s nice to know you’ve been thinking about it.” Emma whipped her head around to face him, mouth open and ready to retort, but he continued. “ _ Second, _ is that any way to talk to your lawyer? And  _ third _ -” Emma tilted her head giving him a warning glare as he stood and began to pull on his coat. “It’s more or less  _ always _ irritate-Emma-for-the-hell-of-it time,” he finished with an impish grin. 

He moved away from her to collect his scarf from the hook by his office door, wrapping it twice around his neck and buttoning his coat. Turning toward her again, no sooner had his eyes alit on her lovely face than a foam rubber stress ball smacked him squarely in his. 

“Oi! That was uncalled for.”

“Oh, so you  _ object _ then, counselor?”

“I do indeed.”

“Overruled,” Emma replied with quick sarcastic smirk, then resumed clicking away on her computer, dismissing him. “Oh, and don’t forget the extra sriracha this time.”

Killian laughed to himself and eased open his office door, tugging on his gloves as he made his way to the bank of elevators at the end of the hall. 

Two months ago. Two months ago, his life was simple. He went to work, got paid an exorbitant amount of money to help people with more dollars than sense fight over the material possessions amassed during their now-defunct marriage like a pair of jackals going after a gazelle’s carcass, then he'd go home, have a drink or three, and go to bed. Occasionally, he’d head to a pub for that drink or three and find someone amusing but forgettable go home with, but that had been far more the exception than the rule as of late. And such was his lot in life. It wasn’t a lot, but that’s life, right?

Then, one thoroughly ordinary morning in early October, came the phone call. 

 

_ “Bell, Darling & Jones. How may I be of assistance? _

_ “Am I speaking to Mr. Killian Jones?” _

_ “You are.” _

_ “And that is Killian Jones, born April 11, 1986 to Colleen and Brennan Jones?” _

_ “Aye, the very same,” he answered warily. “May I ask what this is in reference to?” _

_ “Mr. Jones, my name’s Gus Souris. I’m the attorney appointed by the probate court to represent the estate of Brennan Jones. It’s with my sincere condolences that I must notify you your father has recently passed away. He didn’t leave a will, so I’ve been tasked with identifying and contacting all potential heirs.” _

_ Killian sighed, raking a hand through his already disheveled dark hair. He knew he would get a call like this one day. Honestly, he’s surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Outlaws and alcoholics generally aren’t prone to longevity, and Brennan, to the best of Killian’s knowledge, had been both.  _

_ “Your condolences are unnecessary Mr. Souris. My father and I have been estranged for over two decades. I’m more shocked by the notion that he had enough property to his name for the court to bother appointing you.” _

_ “To be honest, it isn’t much,” Gus explained. “There are a couple of bank accounts, but those are being liquidated to pay off his debts. There’s a small piece of real estate in rural Maine as well. Beyond that, it’s just the usual personal effects.” _

_ “Very well,” Killian replied. “Whenever you draw up the necessary paperwork to transfer title to me, just send it over to my office. The sooner the estate is closed, the sooner I can bloody well get rid of everything.” _

_ “Actually, it isn’t as simple as that. There is another potential heir, and I’ve been having a terrible time trying to find him. You don’t by any chance have contact information for a Liam Jones, do you?” _

_ Killian’s heart twisted. No. Unless they had a fucking telephone booth in the afterlife, he didn’t have a way to contact Liam. He tried to keep the strain out of his voice as he answered, “My elder brother died several years ago. I should think your research would’ve found his death certificate.” _

_ “My apologies, I ought to have specified. I did find a death certificate for Liam Arthur Jones, born March 28, 1978, to Colleen and Brennan Jones. I’m looking for Liam Patrick Jones, born July 20, 1993 to Brennan Jones and Anne Kelly.” _

_ 1993? That would be about a year after Brennan had disappeared in the middle of the night, abandoning Killian and Liam because he couldn’t handle the responsibility of single fatherhood any longer. Could he seriously have gone straight out and sired another child just a few months later? Killian’s blood boiled at the very idea, and he couldn’t even begin to process this other child sharing Liam’s name. He was starting to feel as though the room was spinning. _

_ “Are you quite sure it’s the same Brennan Jones?” _

_ “Well, the birth certificate lists that name for the father, the child’s place of birth fits with Brennan’s known whereabouts at the relevant time, and I found a letter among his personal papers from someone named ‘Anne’ letting him know that she’s pregnant with his child. It’s all very persuasive, but not conclusive. That’s why we’re trying to find this Liam - to see if he can help us confirm whether he’s an heir…” _

_ The rest of the phone call passed in a haze as Killian’s mind struggled to cope with the bombshell of information that had been just dropped on him. For years he had been without family - his mother and brother gone, his father god-knows-where. Since Liam’s passing, he’d considered himself an orphan. God knows Liam was more of a father figure to him than Brennan had ever been. Now Killian was hearing about his actual father for the first time in ages only to find out that he, too, was dead. That by itself wasn’t earth-shattering, in fact, it was all he could do to suppress the bitter urge to call it good riddance. Brennan’s death meant little to him other than as the final confirmation that Killian Jones was alone in the world.  _

_ Except that maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he had a living, breathing relative that he’d never known existed. He had no idea how he felt about that, still positively reeling from the revelation. But one thing was absolutely clear to him. Killian had to find his half-brother. _

 

Oh, but that day hadn’t been done with him quite yet. He was agitated, excited, distracted. A disposition that Liam -  _ his  _ Liam, God, it was hard to think of there being two Liam’s now - would’ve called a ‘right snit’. It was in this precise state of mind that Emma Swan first walked through his door. 

 

_ “Lass, I’m afraid I’m going to have to reschedule our consultation for today. A pressing matter has come up-” _

_ “Wait,” she’d interrupted. “Just hear me out.”  _

_ Something in her voice made him look at her then. Really look at her. She was shifting her weight uneasily from one foot to the other and seemed to be working herself up for something - almost spoiling for a fight, daring him to try to ignore her. Yet there was a fierceness about her that he couldn’t have begun to ignore.  _

_ She seemed to take his silence as an opening and started in on her speech. “My name is Emma Swan. Ten years ago, I gave my son up for adoption. He was supposed to go to a good home. They told me there was a family waiting for him, but…” She swallowed, taking a moment to collect herself. “I recently found out he’s in the foster system - has been this whole time. And I- I want to adopt him. My circumstances have changed and I can give him a home now. He was never supposed to grow up alone-” Her voice cracked slightly and she glanced down for a second, tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear. Then, she set her shoulders and stared him straight in the eye. “I need help with the legal side of things. That’s why I’m here.” _

_ Killian’s heart ached on this woman’s behalf. To think you were giving your child his best chance only to discover that he’d been left alone. The way she’d been left alone. The look in her eyes was all too familiar and he’d bet his left hand that Emma Swan was an orphan, too. And here she was, today of all days, asking him to help her find the only bit of family she has in the world - just like he wanted to do for himself. The universe had an odd sense of symmetry sometimes. _

_ And yet he had to ask. “Ms. Swan, why come to me specifically? I’m a divorce lawyer. This is hardly my wheelhouse.” _

_ She raised her eyebrows as though the answer should be obvious. “You’re Killian Jones, right?” _

_ His lips quirked up into a quizzical half-smile. “Aye. Guilty as charged.” _

_ “Lawyer humor. Nice. Anyway, I read up on you. You’ve done unconventional child custody work before. The Mills case…”  _

_ She let the words hang in the air between them as he put the pieces into place. He’d gained some notoriety for winning a hotly contested custody case between the infamous Mills sisters. His client Regina Mills (not exactly the picture of virtue if one believed the rumors surrounding the death of her wealthy first husband) had claimed that her sister drugged and sexually assaulted Regina’s fiance Robin, resulting in Zelena becoming pregnant. When Robin was tragically killed before the baby’s birth, Regina had declared that she’d be damned before she’d let her ‘psychotic sister’ raise Robin’s child and enlisted Killian’s services to sue for custody. The whole ordeal had been the stuff of daytime soap-operas, but the publicity brought a lot of business to the firm.  _

_ Killian nodded thoughtfully. “So you think if I can get Regina Mills - a woman the tabloids dubbed the ‘Evil Queen’ - custody of her niece, then surely getting a birth mother custody of her own child should be a walk in the park, eh?” _

_ For the first time, Emma Swan let slip the tiniest hint of an amused smile. “Yeah, something like that.” _

_ Killian smiled back. “Fair enough.” _

_ Emma sat down finally in one of the client chairs across from Killian’s desk. She pressed her lips together, fingers fidgeting. “Here’s the other thing. I can’t exactly pay you. Not much anyway. I know your firm does pro bono work sometimes, or if I could pay it out in installments or something...”  She sighed, shaking her head. “This is important to me. I’ll find a way to make it work, but I just - I need you to take the case.” Emma’s words pleaded, but her eyes demanded, her determination obvious in the set of her jaw, the rigidity of her posture.  _

_ Killian furrowed his brow considering her. This woman had found her son after ten years in the foster system - no small feat in and of itself - and had clearly done her research on him and his firm.  _

_ “What exactly is it that you do for a living Ms. Swan?” _

_ “I’m a bail bondsperson. Skip tracing. I’m really good at finding people who don’t want to be found.” She shrugged. “Call it a superpower.” _

_ “Is that how you found your son?” _

_ “Yeah. I mean...” She leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over her chest. “I always wondered about him, you know? When I got my first bail bonds job, I had access to these databases. Court records, personal information, all kinds of stuff. The company I was with didn’t let us use them for personal projects or obvious reasons, but I’ve got my own business now. When you’re the boss, you can fudge the rules a little. Anyway, I had to try to find him. I wanted to see the proof that he’s happy and okay, and…” She gestured vaguely with both hands. “Now I’m here. So can you help me or not?” _

_ “Ms. Swan, I think we can come to an arrangement.” Her eyes narrowed, posture stiffening again, and he raised a hand in conciliation. “Nothing untoward, I assure you. Merely an exchange of services.” She raised an eyebrow and he shook his head in exasperation at himself. “Sorry, that didn’t come out much better, did it? Let me try again. I have a person that I need help in locating. A half-brother of whose existence I only learned this very morning. If you will assist me in tracking down my half-brother, I’ll take your adoption case pro bono. Do we have a deal?” _

_ Killian stood and reached his hand out for her to shake. She stood as well, raising her hand to take his, but pulled it back at the last second. She fixed him with another hard stare. _

_ “Do you think you can finish my case by Christmas?” _

_ Killian blinked, briefly taken aback, and lowered his hand. “That’s just over two months from now. I’m afraid the wheels of justice don’t tend to spin quite that quickly. Arranging a home study, hell, getting a court date around the holidays is-” _

_ “Just try, okay?” she said sternly. “I don’t want him to spend another Christmas alone.” _

_ As he looked deeply into her forest green eyes, so jaded yet so tender, a bell rang inside of him. Not a light jingle, or sprightly chime, but a deep, booming chapel bell reverberating through his whole soul and shaking off the ice and snow he’d allowed to entomb his heart. He knew in that moment that he would do anything not to let this woman down. _

_ “What’s his name, Swan? Your son?” he asked quietly. _

_ “Henry,” she answered, her eyes widening minutely, and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Killian thought he saw a little spark of hope there. “His name is Henry.” _

_ Killian smiled, reaching his hand out to her again and this time she took it. “I promise to do everything in my power to get your Henry home for Christmas.” _

 

From that day on, everything was different. While the majority of Killian’s days were still spent slogging through his regular caseload, his spare hours quickly became a montage of Emma Swan effortlessly making herself quite at home in his office and - if he was being honest with himself - his life. 

Perhaps it was the forced intimacy of having to share details about the darker parts of their lives that made him feel so close to her so quickly. The very nature of the work they were doing for each other didn’t allow for secrets. Not that Emma had been keen on sharing.

It had taken him their first two weekly status meetings to coax and cajole the story out of her about her early life in the foster system. How the older boy that she thought loved her had left her before she could even tell him she was pregnant. How she’d given her son up because she didn’t think her destitute, homeless seventeen year-old self was fit to be a mother. A heartbreaking tale to be sure, but he soon discovered even those tragic facts were not the whole story.

It wasn’t until Emma nearly blew a gasket the day he informed her she’d have to be fingerprinted and submit to a criminal history and background check before filing her adoption petition that he finally got the rest of the details out of her. Jail. She’d been in jail. Henry’s father had not only abandoned her, but actually set her up to take the fall for his own crime, leaving her to bear their child in a prison hospital with her ankle cuffed to the bed.

Emma must have seen the emotion on his face as she told him the story - indeed the swell of rage he felt on her behalf was overwhelming - but had misinterpreted it. She’d asked him then, the shine of unshed tears in her eyes even as her face hardened to stone, if that was it. If he was ready to give up now that he knew. 

Killian would never understand how someone could look so dauntless and so fragile at the same time. A fortress made of glass. He was filled with the urge to take her in his arms, cradle her head to his chest and protect her from the world that had treated her so cruelly, but even then - having known her barely a fortnight - he knew that Emma Swan didn’t need protecting or coddling. God, no. She was a tough lass if there ever was one. A fighter. All she needed was reassurance that she had someone she could count on to fight beside her. 

So instead, he plastered on a wry smirk and shushed her - perhaps a bit theatrically, just to get a rise out of her - and informed her in no uncertain terms that there would be no giving up for either of them. He did so love a challenge, and hoped she did, too, since he had practically nothing for her to help in her research.

Emma relaxed when the focus was drawn away from her, and Killian had then proceeded to tell her of his own dysfunctional past, including the little he knew about his father’s life after the man had abandoned him. She didn’t say much at the time, only taking a few notes and collecting the documentation that Mr. Souris had delivered to Killian’s office before she left.

Still, that meeting had marked a tidal shift in their relationship. No longer were they simply each other’s client. Emma no longer made appointments, but showed up anytime she had a free moment from her rather erratic work schedule, usually bearing some type of sustenance. Their meetings became longer and more frequent. They brainstormed and strategized together over pizza on a long lunch break, or coffee and bear claws first thing in the morning. His favorite type of meeting, however, were the late nights - much like tonight -  spent huddled behind their laptops sharing teasing barbs and greasy boxes of noodles from The Dragon’s Temple which Emma doused with so much chili pepper sauce, he was surprised she didn’t literally breathe fire. 

Emma had her own designated section of his desk consumed by her papers and files that no one was permitted to touch lest the precarious organization system be disturbed. She had her own designated chair that no one was permitted to adjust. It felt to Killian almost like she had always been there, or perhaps as though she were the missing piece to a puzzle and he was only now seeing the greater picture.

That thought gave him pause, and Killian shook himself out of his musings. Turning his coat collar up against the biting wind he trudged onward down the slush covered sidewalk. He didn’t need to be thinking about Emma so much as about the case itself. Thankfully it was going rather well. Astonishingly so, in fact. 

It had seemed like a piece of fairy magic when they’d discovered his partner Tink had a contact at the very group home where Henry resided. Apparently, Tink graduated from a Catholic prep school run by the same convent that managed the home. Tink had made a phone call and somehow sweet-talked the Sisters into an earlier date for Emma’s pre-placement home study. Tomorrow, to be exact.

That likely explained Emma’s prickly demeanor this evening. She was worried about the visit. If it went well, the Sisters would allow Emma to actually meet Henry for the first time - something she’d been dreaming of for months. Years, really. 

In Killian’s purely professional estimation, Emma had absolutely nothing to worry about. She’s a wonderful woman and would make a wonderful mum. The Sisters would see her tenacity, her bravery, the admirable manner in which she’d overcome her past. Anyone who met Emma for more than a few seconds would clearly realize her heart was of an even purer gold than that which glimmered in her hair. He’d known she was a force to be reckoned with from the moment he met her, but he’d found so much more in Emma than he ever expected. A kindred spirit. A partner. A true friend. 

The only thing he hadn’t found with her is his half-brother, but he had faith she’d succeed. Already Emma had sussed out leads that would never have occurred to him, utilizing channels both legal and what she referred to with a sideways grin as ‘just a little shady.’ Maddeningly, it had all been for naught thus far. It seemed as though Liam Patrick Jones had disappeared off the face of the earth sometime in late 2010.

Killian pulled open the door to The Dragon’s Temple, breathing a sigh of relief as warm, sweet-n-sour scented air from the restaurant’s heater blasted his half-frozen face. A quick conversation with the hostess to place his order provided him a temporary distraction from his thoughts, but as soon as he took a seat to wait he felt his features settling into a frown again. 

Some silly part of him had hoped that - like Emma - he could find his family in time for Christmas. Honestly, there was no need to put an artificial deadline on it like that. What did he expect? That this complete stranger with whom he may or may not share a few bits of DNA would turn up and somehow Killian’s solitary existence would be transformed into a Norman Rockwell painting? Utterly ridiculous. The ‘happy family’ ship had sailed long ago. He was painfully aware of that. But perhaps… Perhaps this year he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone. 

Chiding himself for being a maudlin git, Killian plastered on a smile and thanked the hostess as she handed him his take-out bag. He dropped a few bills on the counter with a nod and a genial, “Keep the change, love,” before yanking the door open to brave the frigid night. 

Holding the bag tightly to his body as much to keep himself warm as to protect the food, he reminded himself that tonight was about Emma and Henry. He had to focus. Get into full lawyer mindset to prepare Emma for her home visit the next day. Anything his client needed, she would get. If that meant trudging through the slush and snow to get her favorite spicy noodles or a dash of verbal sparring to get her out of her own head, then so be it. 

-/-

“Did you remember the extra sriracha?”

“Yes.”

“And the low-sodium soy sauce?”

“I know perfectly well you only use the ‘fully leaded’ variety of soy sauce.  _ And _ I procured a few extra sets of chopsticks to keep on hand, though I don’t understand why you can’t use a spoon to stir your coffee like a sensible person.”

“Because a spoon doesn’t reach all the way down to the bottom of a venti mocha. A chopstick is the perfect length to make sure all the chocolate gets blended into the coffee part so it doesn’t taste like, you know,  _ coffee. _ ”

“I think the words you were looking for were ‘Thank you, Killian, for being so considerate of my idiosyncrasies even though I have my feet on your desk.’”

Emma snorted a laugh and lowered her feet to the floor. She looked up at him through fluttering lashes with an only mildly sarcastic, “Thank you, Killian.”

“Much better.” He smirked to himself as he set the bag down on his desk and began to dig out their respective paper boxes, condiments and such. “Any luck whilst I was out?”

Emma’s silence in response made him look up from his task, brow furrowed in concern. The way her lips pressed together, eyes cast down at the notepad in her lap, sent a chill through him. “What is it, Swan?”

She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I didn’t find Liam 2.0, but I think I figured out why we can’t track him after 2010. I found a death certificate for his mother, Anne Kelly, from September of that year. He would’ve just turned 17. There’re some court records that look like he was officially taken in as a ward of the state, but if he ran away…”

“The state isn’t going to waste resources looking for someone who would age out of the system in less than a year anyway,” Killian finished for her. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut. “And Brennan’s paternity had never been legally established, so they wouldn’t bother tracking him down either, much less…”

_ Much less bother to find me.  _ He slammed his hand on the desk in frustration. Another boy needlessly dropped into the foster system. Who could’ve had a family if anyone had known where to look. Sure, he’d been in the middle of law school at the time, but he would’ve found a way to make it work if he’d only known. He could’ve honored his Liam’s memory by caring for this younger brother the way Liam had cared for him. But no. Instead there was one more Jones abandoned to the mercy of the world. Probably angry and scared just as Killian had been, and God only knows what became of him…

A small, cold hand wrapped around his own made him look up. The genuine empathy he saw reflected in Emma’s eyes calmed the storm of his thoughts, and he tentatively turned his hand in her grasp until he could lace their fingers together.

“I’m so sorry, Killian.”

“It matters not, Swan.” He gave her hand a squeeze and offered her a wan smile. “Thank you for all the hard work you’ve done. It was a long shot anyway-”

“No.” Emma stood suddenly, dropping his hand and beginning to pace the now well-trodden and familiar path she always took across his office when she was trying to process something. “No. I’m not giving up yet and neither should you. I’ll find another lead. I’ll dig a little deeper. There’s no reason to-”

“Stop, love.” Killian had moved into her path and as her circuit brought her back to his position he gripped her arms gently, halting her progress. She scowled up at him, ready to protest, but he spoke first. 

“I appreciate your persistence. Bloody hell, your presence in my life has made it necessary for me to buy a thesaurus simply to find more words for ‘stubborn’ so as not to repeat myself.” She rolled her eyes at him, but he could tell by now when she was fighting a smile. 

“Nonetheless,” he continued, “I have a client with a very important meeting tomorrow. So, I must insist that we put my dysfunctional family aside for the time being and focus on her.”

Emma huffed at that, a trace of nervousness seeping into her expression, though he could tell she was trying to hide it. 

“Fine.”

Killian slid his hands down her arms to take both her hands in his and tugged her back toward her chair. “I suggest we start by feeding said client. She tends to get a bit - what’s the word you use?  _ Snarky _ when she’s hungry.”

-/-

The Emma Swan that Killian had become accustomed to was hardly shy about eating. In fact, she rather had a tendency to hoover whatever was on her plate in record time. As she’d explained one morning through a mouth full of bearclaw, it was a habit left over from her own days in the foster system. Apparently if you didn’t eat quickly, the bigger kids stole your food. So, when she seemed to be not so much eating as stabbing angrily at her noodles with a chopstick, it was a sure sign that something was eating  _ her _ .

“Has the lo mein done something to offend you?”

Emma shook her head and set the carton down on the desk. “Just distracted.”

“You’re brooding, darling, and we can’t have that. That’s rather  _ my _ trademark. Find your own.” He nudged her leg teasingly with the toe of his boot and she finally met his eyes, if only to stick her tongue out at him. He grinned in return. “Ah, there you are. Welcome back.”

“Ha. Ha.”

Killian straightened his posture, adopting a more businesslike demeanor. “Worried about tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“You needn’t be. Look at the facts, Swan. You own your own business, make a good living. You have a lovely apartment in a decent neighborhood with good schools. Not to mention you're actually Henry’s biological mother-”

“Who happens to be an ex con that got herself knocked up as a teenager-”

“Who overcame significant adversity to truly make something of herself. Who is a strong, intelligent, caring woman-”

“Ugh.” Emma groaned in frustration. “You’re my lawyer. You have to say that stuff about me whether you mean it or not.” Emma leaned forward, elbows on her knees and dropped her forehead into her hands.

Killian sighed. “Actually, no.” 

The seriousness of his tone must’ve caught Emma’s attention. Her head popped up and her questioning eyes met his. “You don’t have to say it or you don’t mean it?”

There it was again. That flash of vulnerability that made him want to reach for her, to comfort and reassure her, but he hesitated. Casual touches had slowly become a part of their friendship - an aspect he cherished more than he cared to admit - but somehow it still seemed the better path to allow her to initiate such things for the most part. 

Instead he attempted to convey all the warmth he felt for her in the softness of his tone, willed her to see it in his eyes. “Swan, I meant every word. In fact, I owe you as my client a duty of candor, and in my professional assessment as your attorney the pre-placement study will be a cake walk. And for what it’s worth,” he added with a smirk to cover the sudden increase in his heart rate at the way she was looking at him, “in my personal opinion, you’re bloody brilliant and they’d be fools not to approve you.”

Emma swallowed, then graced him with a smile that did funny things to his insides. “It’s worth a lot. Thanks.”

Killian looked away, one hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “If you like, I could accompany you. At the home visit, I mean. You may find yourself in need of my legal counsel after all.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am many things, love. Serious, brooding, witty, devilishly handsome-”

“Modest,” she deadpanned.

He met her gaze, raising an impertinent eyebrow. “Aye. That too.” She whacked him in the chest with the back of her hand and he laughed. “Yes. I’m serious.”

“Then yeah. I’d like that. Just in case I need your legal advice or whatever.”

“Very well. I shall meet you at your place tomorrow afternoon. Now my  _ advice _ is that you pack up the remnants of your supper and go home and get some rest. Can’t have my client looking like a zombie when the Sister arrives. What sort of impression would that make?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “You just couldn’t leave it on a nice note, could you?”

Killian’s grin only widened. “You wouldn’t recognize me if I did, Swan.”

-/-

Killian arrived at Emma’s apartment the next day thirty minutes early with a take-out bag from her favorite diner in one hand and a thermal mug in the other. He held up each in turn.

“Grilled cheese and onion rings and a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. I wasn’t sure if you’d be craving salty or sweet as far as comfort food, so I procured both.”

“Best. Lawyer. Ever.” 

The relief on Emma’s face was palpable as she snatched the bag and mug from him and headed directly for the kitchen muttering something about not getting crumbs on the coffee table. Killian chuckled to himself as he hung his coat on a peg by the door before following after her. It was rare thing to see Emma Swan frazzled and he had to admit it was the tiniest bit adorable. 

As it turned out, she must’ve needed both the sweetness and salt to calm herself and though he grimaced at the odd ( _ disgusting _ ) food and beverage combination, he was only too happy to have been able provide it for her. By the time Sister Blue arrived, Emma’s ‘game face’ was firmly on and Killian had every intention of simply introducing himself, then blending into the furniture, confident that she could handle it from there. Except that…

Except that he couldn’t help the occasional interjection to ensure the Sister truly understood Emma’s accomplishments. Or offering Emma a nod or smile of encouragement whenever she looked to him. Or standing by her, shoulder to shoulder, during the part of the interview where Emma had to talk about her time in prison. That was why he was there, wasn’t it? To support Emma and ensure the Sister heard the best points of her case?

By the end of the visit, the three of them were seated in Emma's living room, Killian once again at Emma's side on her couch, and the nun in the adjacent arm chair. 

“Can I fetch you another cup of tea, Sister?”

“Oh, no thank you, Mr. Jones. I’d really best be getting back to the convent to draft my report.”

Sister Blue placed her empty cup on the end table and stood, Emma and Killian following suit. Emma walked the Sister to the door, Killian a few steps behind. 

Before reaching the front door, Sister Blue turned to them with a warm smile and reached out to shake each of their hands in turn. “Ms. Swan, officially I must tell you that a final decision will not be made until I submit my report, but to be honest, I don’t forsee any difficulties.”

“Thank you so much.” Emma beamed, and Killian felt his own lips turn upward simply watching her, content to bask in her radiance.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you and your boyfriend today. And if I might add, the two of you make a lovely couple.”

Couple? Oh.  _ Oh!  _ Killian’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack, even as he watched Emma do the same. Bloody hell, he hadn’t meant to pretend to be her boyfriend. How the devil had the Sister gotten that impression? Had he overstepped? How was Emma reacting? How could he fix this?

He noticed Emma blinking rapidly, seeming as unable as he to formulate a proper response, and he knew one of them needed to say something soon. The Sister’s expression was turning from confused to concerned by the second. He and Emma finally spoke at the same time:

“Apologies for the misunderstanding, but I’m actually Ms. Swan’s attorney-”

“It’s not like that. I mean we’re not-”

They both stopped rambling as each realized the other was talking. They looked at each other with an awkward laugh, and Killian gave a half bow, gesturing for Emma to go on.

“Killian isn’t my boyfriend. I mean, we’re friends, but he’s here as my lawyer.”

Sister Blue looked between them with barely veiled amusement. “I see,” she said, though her expression implied that she  _ saw _ much more than Killian was willing to think about.

“Is it a problem that I’m single?”

Sister Blue shook her head. “Not at all. Our concern is that Henry will have a loving and stable home.” Her smile was reassuring, and Killian could see some of the tension leave Emma’s body, but he still felt the need to get in a final word.

“And he’ll most certainly have that with Emma. We shall look forward to the convent’s decision, Sister.”

They said their goodbyes and the Sister took her leave, and suddenly it was just the two of them. Alone. In Emma’s apartment. 

“So that was…” 

Emma shoved her hands into her back pockets rocking slightly back and forth from her heels to her toes. Her teeth worried at her lower lip, and Killian’s eyes were drawn to her mouth. 

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about it. Emma was beautiful, a sensuous combination of graceful curves and hard edges and he’d be a blind fool not to have thought about it. In passing. Once or twice. But they were friends and they worked together and he needed to focus on her case, not the swirls of blue and amber within the green of her eyes or the sprinkling of freckles on her nose or how his body always seemed to move right next to her without him even thinking about it rather like he was doing right then…  _ Oh, bugger _ .

He took a step back out of her personal space, his hand scratching that spot behind his ear again. “Aye. That it was.” He cleared his throat. “You were flawless, as expected.”

She smiled then, and he might have been hallucinating but he’d swear he saw her eyes dart down to his lips for a moment. 

“I have a great attorney. He coached me through it.”

She swayed closer to him, her smile softening and he couldn’t quite seem to breathe properly. He felt his head tilting, his torso leaning down incrementally, but before his brain could truly catch up to what his body seemed to be about to do, his phone chirped in his pocket and they both jumped back as if being startled awake.

Killian pulled the offending device out of his pocket and checked the screen.

“It’s a calendar alert. I have to meet another client in half an hour. I, ah, really should be getting back to the office.”

“Right. Yes. Of course. I’ll walk you out.”

But in the hallway, they hesitated, neither seeming particularly keen to say goodbye.

“I’ll call you when I get the report back from the Sisters.”

“Right. Thanks. I…” Emma paused looking a bit uncertain as if making up her mind about something, and he waited for her to continue almost not daring to exhale. “I wanted to thank you, Killian. For being here for me today, I mean. For supporting me. I haven’t had a lot of that in my life so just - thanks.”

Before he could respond that it was no trouble - that she deserved all the care and support and every good thing in the world - she was suddenly in his arms, her hair in his eyes and her cheek pressed to his as she practically strangled him with how tightly her arms wound around his neck. And just as quickly she was gone, ducked back into her apartment without another word, leaving him blinking stupidly on her welcome mat as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You’re welcome, love.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Emma Swan and Killian Jones have a deal. She helps him find his half-brother, he helps her adopt her son. Her case is going great. His... not so much. Over late nights and Chinese take-out, their partnership has developed into friendship. Or could it be something more? 
> 
> When we last saw Emma and Killian, Emma had just completed her home-study visit with Sister Blue from Henry’s orphanage, who (shocker) mistook Emma and Killian for a couple. There was hugging. There was almost a kiss? Maybe?

_ Re: Cause No. 2016-362-0815, “In the Interest of Henry Swan” _

_ Dear Mr. Jones,  _

_ After review of the adoption request submitted by your client as well as the initial home study report by Sister Blue, it is our great pleasure to inform you that your client, Ms. Emma Swan has been approved… _

 Killian scanned through the rest of the email quickly, already buzzing with excitement on Emma’s behalf. She could meet Henry that very day. His first instinct was to call her immediately, but this news was far too important to give her over the phone. No, no. He would text her - some flimsy pretext to get her to his office - then he would tell her. Maybe make her squirm a bit first, let her pester him for information as to whether he’d heard back from the Sisters or some such thing. Her face when he finally told her would be well worth it. Yes, that was just what he would do.

-/-

“Okay, I’m here. So what’s with the cryptic text m-”

“You’ve been approved to meet Henry!”

Emma blinked once, twice, as Killian’s outburst began to sink in. Bloody hell, he’d practically shouted it at her. So much for making her squirm. Ah, well. He hadn’t counted on the way she’d look  _ before _ he told her - the furrow of her brow, the way her body seemed to be tensed like a spring ready to snap. 

Still, even that was better than the way she looked at him now. She stood stock still, eyes wide as saucers - clearly in a terrible shock - and Killian’s hand began drifting up to rub at the back of his neck, a stammered explanation on the tip of his tongue.

“I, ah - I mean to say the Sisters-”

“I get to see Henry?” Emma interrupted in a whisper almost as though afraid if she spoke too loudly this small victory would be taken away from her.

Killian couldn’t help the warmth in his gaze, nor the smile that spread across his face and grew broader as Emma’s own lips seemed to finally catch on and mirror his. “Aye, love. You get to see Henry.”

“I get to see Henry!” Suddenly Emma’s entire being changed from that of a stone statue to a confetti-filled balloon bursting in a flurry of joy all over his office. 

Never in a thousand years would he ever have believed he’d see the day that Emma Swan bounced - literally bounced - around his office babbling like a brook, and yet here she was. He allowed himself to savor it, awash in amusement and amazement as he observed her, never interrupting except to give quick answers to her when’s, where’s and how’s. Storing the images up to warm himself on some lonely night in the near future when her case was complete and she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

Not that he thought he’d never see her again when the case was over. They were friends (as he kept reminding himself over and over each time he felt the phantom of Emma’s embrace from the day before) and would remain such. Yet, he’d grown accustomed to her constant presence in his office and his life and surely that would taper off once she began caring full time for her son. Killian wasn’t jealous of the lad, not at all. It’s just that… well, he would miss her.

And so he watched her celebrate. Just a moment more. Just one last look at the way she glowed as she gestured wildly in her excitement, and then it was time to resume his role as her attorney. He walked around his desk to catch her by the upper arms, chuckling as she quivered in his grasp.

“Swan, there will still be more steps in the process after this. You’ll be limited to supervised visits at the group home before Henry can move in with you, and then there will be a second home visit either by one of the Sisters or a social worker after Henry’s been settled a couple of weeks. You’ll have to submit character references to the court and-”

“I don’t  _ care!”  _ She shook her head, still smiling bright as day. “Killian, I get to meet my  _ son _ , and it’s all thanks to you and…”

She trailed off and Killian only had a fraction of a second to notice the way her eyes had drifted down to his mouth before she lunged forward and kissed him. It wasn’t a romantic kiss exactly, more like a protracted smack of lips.  He didn’t really even have time for his brain to catch up and give him the wherewithal to kiss her back, but it was enough. He felt rather like a cartoon character who’s just been struck with a frying pan, his ears ringing with the sound of that same bell he’d heard the day he met her, but this time the chimes echoed the very thing that he’d tried not to think, tried not to admit to himself, but could no longer deny. He was in love with Emma Swan.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the realization, however. Some part of his mind registered as she pulled back that she looked for a moment nearly as stupefied as he felt, but then she swatted his arm, snapping him back to attention.

“Get your keys!” She shoved him lightly in the chest to encourage him to move.

“What?”

“So you can lock up. This could take - wait. You don’t have anything scheduled for the rest of the day, do you? Nevermind. I don’t care, just reschedule it. We’re going to meet my son!”

“We are?” He’d assumed Emma would want to go alone to meet Henry for the first time - it was such a pivotal and personal moment after all. Surely, she wouldn’t want him tagging along?

She strode past him toward the door, and turned back to stare at him as though he’d grown a second head. “Of course we are. Come on!”

He shook his head minutely, clearing out the last of the daze left behind by her kiss, then retrieved his keys as commanded. “As you wish, Swan. I’ll drive.”

-/-

Emma’s initial exuberance waned the longer they drove, giving way to agitation. She began with worrying her lower lip between her teeth, which admittedly Killian found a bit distracting for reasons completely unrelated to his concerns for her mental state. Next came the fidgeting: crossing and uncrossing her legs, a bouncing knee, a complete inability to keep her fingers off the radio buttons. By the time they reached the orphanage, her white-knuckled grip on the door handle indicated she’d reached a level of outright panic. 

“Alright there, Swan?” Killian asked as he shifted the car into park.

She turned to him looking like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. “What if he hates me? I mean…” She inhaled deeply, flopping back against her seat and turning her face skyward. “What am I supposed tell him when he asks me why I gave him up? Why it took me so long to find him?”

Gingerly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to, Killian reached out and took her hand. He waited until she met his eyes to speak. “Just tell him the truth. He’ll understand - in time if not right away.” 

Emma started to turn away again, but Killian tugged gently on their joined hands to bring her attention back to him. “Emma, look at me.” She met his gaze, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod. “He’s going to love you.”

Emma still looked unconvinced, but she laced their fingers together and squeezed tightly. “Thank you.”

“You ready?”

Emma gave a tight lipped smile and determined nod. “Let’s go.”

-/-

The bloody chair in the bloody waiting room was uncomfortable as all hell, and how bloody long could it possibly take to go and find a ten year-old boy in a building this bloody small, and if Emma didn’t stop picking at her bloody fingernails she’d end up a bloody mess. Literally. Oh god, he was a nervous wreck on her behalf. 

To be fair, it had truly only been about fifteen minutes since Sister Nova had greeted them at the door and showed them into this “introduction room” as she’d called it, but every second felt like an eternity. He wanted to hold Emma’s hand again, to offer her some measure of physical comfort, but it didn’t seem appropriate. He’d already given the Sisters the wrong impression once about his relationship with Emma. He blanched a bit, remembering how Sister Blue had looked at the two of them. She must’ve seen it, his feelings for Emma. Must’ve known what he himself hadn’t yet been able to put into words.  

He looked over at Emma taking in the furrow of her brow, the way her eyes darted between the clock on the wall and her own twisting fingers in her lap. This was hardly the time for him to be thinking about his own feelings. Today was about her and her boy.

He stood abruptly, seeming to startle her to attention. “Swan, would you like me to-”

“Mom?”

The door swung open to reveal Sister Nova standing behind a young lad with dark brown eyes, a tousled mop of mousy hair and his mother’s chin. He didn’t move from the doorway at first, and Killian could see in his eyes that same wariness that Emma possessed, yet there was shade of difference. Where Emma often refused to believe that anything good could happen to her, as if that belief would make it easier for her happiness to be taken away, this boy  _ wanted _ to believe. He practically vibrated with hope, and perhaps it was that bright energy radiating from him that finally prompted Emma to move.

She hesitantly rose from her seat, her eyes devouring every detail of the boy in front of her. “Hi,” she breathed out in a watery voice, raising one hand in an awkward attempt at a wave. “I’m - I’m Emma. I’m your-”

“Mom!” In a few surprisingly quick strides, Henry’s little legs carried him across the room, practically tackling Emma into a hug, one side of his face pressed against her stomach. “You found me! I knew you’d find me.”

After the first few seconds of shock, Emma leaned down and slowly wound her arms around the boy’s back. Killian felt the prick of moisture in the corners of his eyes as Emma looked at him over her son’s head, her expression equal parts awe and terror. She swallowed hard, and Killian felt a lump rise in his own throat as she mouthed her thanks to him before closing her eyes and resting her chin atop Henry’s hair. 

“Yeah, kid,” she murmured. “I finally did.”

-/-

After the first couple of successful visits at the orphanage, the Sisters had finally permitted Emma to take Henry off campus for dinner. Emma had insisted that Killian come along, and Killian had insisted in return that she permit him to treat her and her son to Granny’s finest. It seemed only fitting that their first meal together should be at Emma’s favorite diner.

“I have to ask, kid - how did you know I would find you eventually?” Emma tried to cover her unease at her own question by taking a large bite of her grilled cheese. 

Henry screwed up his face in thought. “It was hard sometimes, especially when other kids got adopted…” 

Emma’s face crumpled and it was all Killian could do not to reach for her, but Henry continued, building momentum as he told his tale. “Then my teacher, Ms. Blanchard, she gave me this book. It was all fairytales, but not the usual ones. Anyway, there was this story in it about a princess who gets lost and doesn’t find her family again until she’s a grown-up, but she  _ does _ find them, and I figured maybe that could happen to me someday. Like maybe it’s never too late to find your family. I just had to hold onto my esperance.”

“Esperance?” Emma asked bemusedly.

Henry ducked his head to the side, seeming to study his french fries intently as his cheeks pinkened. “It means ‘hope’. Ms. Blanchard - she has this Word of the Day calendar…” 

Killian smiled, thinking to himself that he’d very much like to shake this Ms. Blanchard’s hand. “Ah! So you fancy elaborate words, do you lad?”

Henry perked up immediately at the acknowledgment, all traces of shyness gone. “Indubitably!” Henry glowed with pride at Emma and Killian’s matching grins. “That was one of my words from last week. I’m gonna be a writer!”

“And a fine one you’ll make I’m sure, if you’re anything as clever as your mum.” Killian spared a glance over at Emma who was making a token attempt at rolling her eyes at him, but her countenance held a softness that belied any real annoyance.

“But,” Killian continued with a solemn tone, “have you considered a career in the law? Noble calling, that. There’s a fair bit of writing involved, but you get to use many other skills as well. Oration, debate, strategy, showmanship…” He waggled his eyebrows dramatically at Emma who was again doing her level best to look unamused.

“Braggadocio.” 

Killian’s mouth fell open, even as Emma very nearly choked on her hot chocolate. He turned to find Henry looking up at him with an eerily familiar expression of feigned innocence. The boy shrugged. “That was yesterday’s word. I just remembered it.”

Killian narrowed his eyes, taking the boy’s measure and smiled approvingly. “You’re cheeky as your mum, that’s for sure.”

-/-

All of Killian’s powers of persuasion could not convince Emma to let him pay for dinner, but she did finally relent enough to allow him to split the check with her. Letting the adults take care of such boring financial matters, Henry excused himself to go to the restroom, and Emma and Killian walked over to the front counter to wait for him. As soon as the lad was out of earshot, Emma crossed her arms and turned to Killian with a wry tilt to her lips.

“So what was all that about? Oration, strategy, showmanship-”

“Don't forget debate, love.”

“Oh right. I'm sure you're a  _ master _ at  _ debating _ , aren't you?”

_ Did she just?  _ Killian raised an eyebrow. “It's going to be like that, is it? Very well, then.” He stepped closer to her, crowding her space and reached out to tug on the end of a golden tress. “I’d also like to point out since many legal terms are in either Latin or French, I'm quite cunning at linguistics as well.”

Emma raised an eyebrow of her own in disbelief, but didn’t move away. If anything it felt to Killian as though she swayed closer, and his pulse responded despite his better judgment. What were they playing at? Was she  _ flirting _ with him? They’d never talked about the kiss. He’d written it off as a one-time thing, a side-effect of her excitement that day, but there was something about the way her lush, pink lips curved into a teasing smirk...

“You speak Latin? Seriously?”

“You’d be surprised what they teach you in law school.”

Emma shook her head, but her smile was warm - a fact of which he was keenly aware as he seemed unable to tear his eyes away from her lips. She uncrossed her arms and rested her hands on her hips, lowering her chin and her voice as she looked up at him through long eyelashes.

“Just who exactly do you think you’re trying to impress, Jones.”

“That all depends,” he replied, his voice a little throaty and rough, and he reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear, keen to feel those silken strands again. “On whom is it working?”

Oh god, she was so close now and she was looking up at him like she might - just  _ might _ \- feel as he did. When had the air between them grown so thick? He could could scarcely breathe.

“You guys ready?” 

Killian and Emma startled backward away from each other and into awareness of their very public surroundings at the sound of Henry’s chirping voice and clomping steps moving in their direction. Emma recrossed her arms protectively over her chest as Killian reached up to scratch a phantom itch behind his ear, yet Henry prattled on, thoroughly oblivious to Killian’s internal tumult and whatever tension may or may not have existed between the adults.

“Cause I don’t have to be back for a  _ little _ while longer and there’s this ice cream shop that we passed on the way here-” 

“It’s literally freezing outside and you want  _ ice cream _ ?”

Henry fixed Emma with wide, pleading eyes, and Killian knew the lad had won the battle despite Emma’s protestations. “But  _ mom _ ,” he wheedled, “it’s  _ never _ a bad time for rocky road. It has almonds and almonds have protein and protein is good for a growing kid.” 

Henry looked over at Killian with raised eyebrows that asked ‘How’d I do?’ to which Killian responded with a surreptitious thumbs up behind Emma’s back. “He makes a compelling argument, Swan.” 

Emma glared at Killian out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t you start.” She leaned down with a resigned sigh and tugged Henry’s woolen hat down over his ears. “Okay, kid. Rocky road it is.” She straightened and began to walk toward the door, bumping Killian’s shoulder with hers as she passed. “You’re buying, Jones.”

-/-

Once Henry was safely back in the care of the Sisters, Emma returned to her lovingly dilapidated yellow Beetle where Killian waited in the passenger seat. Her door closed with a heavy thud, the engine spluttered to life, and soon they were rumbling along the two-lane road through the wooded acreage surrounding the convent and children’s home. Night had fallen hours ago, the only light that which shone from the Beetle’s headlamps and the stars above them, but it was a peaceful darkness, and a companionable silence stretched between the two of them as they drove.

Still, a thought niggled at the back of Killian’s mind, and as they merged onto the brightly lit highway that would take them back to his office, he could hold his question in no longer. 

“Swan, please don’t think I’m complaining, quite the opposite in fact, but I must ask - why do you keep including me in all of your meetings with Henry?” In the sharp halogen glare of the street lights, Killian could see the way Emma blanched, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. He knew he was entering dangerous waters, but he pressed on. “Are you afraid to be alone together?”

If Emma had appeared tense before, she now seemed utterly alarmed despite her effort to sound casual. “What? No. Wha - why would you think that?”

Killian placed his hand over hers on the gearshift, caressing the fine bones of her wrist with the pad of his thumb in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “It would be completely understandable, love. I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be adjusting to new motherhood, and it’s all happening rather quickly. Most women get nine months to come to terms with it, aye? You’ve scarcely had more than two. I’m happy to keep acting as a buffer, but you must see how well Henry’s taken to you. I’m certain the two of you will get on swimmingly on your own.”

“Oh you meant-  _ Oh. _ ” Emma’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, and she quickly cast a glance down to their joined hands as she seemed to process his words. “Yes. Well? I mean sort of, but not-” She huffed out breath. “Lemme start over. Yes, it _ is _ overwhelming and scary and really, really wonderful. And yes, at first I seriously needed you there for moral support, but now…” She paused, chewing on her lip as if deciding how much she wanted to say. “Henry - he seems to really like you and it’s just kind of nice, I guess. Having a friend to share this whole life changing experience with.”

Killian let his hand drop back to his side, but managed to maintain his smile even as a single word reverberated deafeningly in the quiet between them.  _ Friend, friend, friend… _ “In that case, I’m honored.”

“There’s another thing, though. I know I haven’t been around the office much this week, and with Henry moving in this weekend-”

“He’s moving in this weekend? That’s wonderful, Swan. Will you be needing any assistance in retrieving his things?”

“Yeah, the Sisters just told me tonight when I dropped him off. But no, he doesn’t have much stuff. You know how it is…”

Killian heard again the echo of the lost little girl in her voice, and it stirred to wakefulness the lost boy in his heart. Aye, he knew. It was only his distraction at her good news that made him forget for a moment. Of course Henry wouldn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions. The lost tend to travel light. 

“But what I was getting at is that I didn’t want you to think that…” Emma cleared her throat. “I, um I - I haven’t forgotten you know. About your brother. I’m still working on your case, it’s just been kind of busy with Henry this past week. I can be at your office first thing tomorrow-”

Killian had known this was coming, had been preparing himself for it, but he hadn’t found the right time to talk to her about it. Since the day they’d found the death certificate for Liam’s mother, he’d decided that they should call off the search for his brother. He didn’t doubt Emma’s tenacity - if anyone could succeed in finding him it was her - but why  _ should _ she continue at this sisyphean task when she had her child to care for and her own business to run. 

He waved her off. “Swan, it’s fine. I know you’ve more important things to attend to right now than running down a dead end street on my behalf.”

“No!” She seemed a bit startled at her own vehemence. “No, this was supposed to be a reciprocal arrangement and-”

“Right. Our business arrangement.” Killian felt as though he’d been doused in ice water, and he couldn’t help it if some of that chill creeped into his tone. “Don’t worry, love. You’ve gone above and beyond the work I asked you to do. We’re square.”

“No, that’s…” She tentatively sought out his hand again and - meeting no resistance from him - laced their fingers together. “Killian, that’s not what I meant. I  _ want  _ to do this for you. You’ve stood by me, you’ve supported me, you’ve given me my family - everything I never thought I could have. And I  _ am _ going to find your brother because you deserve to have that, too.”

Killian swallowed back the words that were threatening to pour out of him, words he was certain she wouldn’t want to hear. That what he’d done was nothing compared to the light that she, and now Henry as well, had brought back into his life. That it didn’t matter to him anymore whether they found this person with whom he only  _ might _ have a blood tie, because for the first time since his older brother’s passing, he no longer felt alone in the world. That she was enough and her friendship was more than he deserved. That he loved her. 

No. Tonight was not a night for hopeless confessions. Instead, he squeezed her hand and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Swan, I’m a rake and a scoundrel and a bloody  _ divorce lawyer. _ May the gods help me if I ever get what I  _ deserve. _ ”

Emma snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes, just as he’d hoped she would. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned cheekily at her. “Aye, but I’m devilishly handsome as well, so I expect it balances out.”

-/-

True to her word, Emma resumed her commandeering of Killian’s office, though with less frequency than had been her habit heretofore. When she came by in the evenings, Henry came with her. Soon enough, the lad had claimed his own piece of real estate on Killian’s desk where he could do his homework, and an order of chicken fried rice with an extra egg roll had been added to their “usual” at The Dragon’s Temple. The three of them made an oddly domestic picture despite the professional setting. Perhaps a bit too domestic, in fact, if Tink’s teasing comments about ‘the wife and kid’ were anything to go by.

Emma was determined to give Henry every cheesy holiday cliche for their first Christmas together, and more often than not, Killian got pulled right into the thick of it with them.  There was the photo with Santa ( _ “She knows I don’t still believe in Santa Claus, right?” “Best humor your mother, lad.” _ ), shopping for a Christmas tree ( _ “Jones, you know an eight foot tree won’t fit in my apartment and I swear if the two of you don’t stop with the puppy eyes, I’m gonna tie YOU to the top of the car.” _ ), decorating said tree ( _ “See mom? Mr. Jones was right. This was DEFINITELY the perfect tree.” “Yeah, you’re right, kid. But he can be the one to risk his neck putting the star on top.” _ ), and, of course, the sacred ritual of watching sappy Christmas movies ( _ “So you DO have an apartment. Nice couch, Jones.” “Swan, you don’t get to call dibs on the furniture in my home.” “You move your feet, you lose your seat.” _ ).

Though he cherished the time spent with Emma and Henry, it filled Killian with a certain longing. Watching Emma and her son bond together into a little family of two rekindled his desire for a family to call his own. Maybe it was Henry’s eternal ‘esperance’ or Emma’s determination, but for all that he had tried, Killian couldn’t quite snuff the tiny remaining spark of hope that his half-brother would be found. While he was grateful to have the Swans in his life - truly they were a blessing he had never expected - he was an outsider. A friend of the family. 

A friend they currently seemed determined to murder.

“No. Absolutely not. Water is meant to be a liquid. To be sailed across in a mighty vessel. It is not for man to unnaturally freeze a bloody pool of it and then strap slivers of metal to his feet to attempt to walk upon the surface.  I believe the very man whose birth this season celebrates would resent the presumptuous attempt by mere mortals to imitate-”

“Oh, calm down with the closing arguments, counselor. It’s just ice skating.”

“Come on, Mr. Jones. Please?”

“Henry, I thought we had a gentlemen’s agreement that the puppy eyes were only to be used on your mother.” 

Killian regretted the comment immediately because no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he found himself caught by not one but two pairs of plaintive eyes. He felt his resolve crumble to dust right along side his sense of self-preservation.

“Fine, but if I lose a limb…”

Emma smirked in victory. “Then your blood will be on our hands for all eternity. I can live with that. Let’s go!”

-/-

Skating with the Swans proved to be better than Killian expected. They’d been at it for nearly an hour with no death or dismemberment as of yet, though not completely without mishap. It had taken him a bit to get his sea legs, so to speak, and in the interim he’d discovered exactly how unforgiving a landing spot ice could be. It had all been worth the literal pain in his arse and injured dignity to witness Emma and Henry’s laughter and easy smiles, all set to the tune of cheerful holiday music drifting down from the rink’s tinny outdoor speakers.

“Just one more lap. Please?” 

“Lad, I don’t think I have it in me. My legs are starting to burn.”

Emma scoffed. “What are you - like, three hundred?”

“And yet I’ve retained my youthful glow. Swan, how are you not exhausted?”

Emma placed a hand on one hip, gesturing downward with the other as a smug grin tilted her lips. “Chasing down bad guys keeps the legs in shape.”

Killian cocked his head, admiring the legs in question. “I can hardly argue with that, love.”

She snickered at the attempted charm, but Henry was undeterred.

“Come  _ on _ , Mr. Jones. We’ll pull you!” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Here. Like this.” At that, Henry placed his mittened hand in Killian’s. “Mom, you get the other side.”

Emma hesitated for only a moment, a strangely guarded expression on her face. She blinked and it was gone, replaced by a small smile and a nod at Henry as she linked hands with Killian. Though her fingers felt like icicles against his palm, an undeniable warmth spread through him at the contact. He felt a grin turn up the corners of his mouth and readjusted his grip on Emma and Henry, giving each of their hands a squeeze.

Emma looked up at him. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I’d wager.”

“Try something new, Jones. It’s called  _ trust. _ ” She grinned mischievously at Killian, then leaned around him to get Henry’s attention. “Alright, kid. 1-2-3 go!” 

As they pushed off, dragging Killian slightly behind them, Emma turned her head and caught Killian’s eye.  

“Hold on tight!”

He found at that moment there was nothing in the world he wanted more.

That is... until a few minutes later when they crashed breathlessly into the guardrail near the gate.

“That was bloody terrifying. The pair of you are menaces and should be arrested for reckless endangerment.”

Emma laughed wholeheartedly, a wonderfully undignified sound accompanied by a scrunched nose and awkward doubling over that Killian thought was perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Would a little hot chocolate make it better?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Killian scowled but allowed himself to be led in the direction of the snack bar. “I’d prefer a large glass of rum, but I suppose given the present underage company hot chocolate will suffice.”

He paused at the benches and gestured to their skates. “Let’s get these bloody death traps off our feet though first, yeah?”

The three of them sat down and Killian assisted Henry in removing his skates before attending to his own. The lad scampered off presumably to return the skates to the rental counter, so it came as a surprise to hear his voice coming from a different direction.

“Hey guys, over here.” Emma and Killian raised their eyes to find Henry standing next to a weatherbeaten photo booth. “Can we take some pictures, mom?”

Emma agreed, and once their skates had been returned, their original mission for hot chocolate was forgotten in favor of a spirited argument over who could make the silliest face for the camera. Even before the first flash had gone off, they were jostling and prodding each other, all vying for a better spot in front of the lens and trying to make the others laugh. One flash followed by some shuffling around, then another, then another, and by the fourth flash, Emma was sitting on Killian’s lap with his hand gripping her waist. He wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten that way, but in the seconds before the final flash their eyes met and time seemed to stop.

Their contorted expressions fell away, leaving behind only soft smiles and for the space of a heartbeat, Killian was lost in the deep green of her eyes which seemed to shine with something he was too afraid to hope for. Another blinding flash and whatever he had seen was gone, leaving the two of them to the inelegant process of disentangling themselves after Henry hopped down from his place in front of them. 

Henry fidgeted while the printer whirred, and Emma apparently became deeply interested in straightening the hem of her sweater. Just as Killian was about to step outside the cramped booth, the machine spit out their photo strips and Henry snatched them up, handing one each to Emma and Killian, looking between the two adults and then, strangely, above their heads.

“Osculation.” Henry pronounced.

“Beg your pardon, lad?”

“It means kissing,” Henry said as if it should be perfectly obvious. “Are you guys gonna kiss now?”

“Why-” Emma cleared her throat and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the stiffness of the motion belying her casual tone. “Why would we do that?”

Henry pointed toward the ceiling of the booth, where yes, in fact, of all bloody things, hung a single sprig of mistletoe. Killian’s mouth went dry and though Emma’s entire face turned red (a fact he’d have to analyze later), she seemed to recover her wits first. 

“Looks like you’re the one under the mistletoe, kid,” she replied and leaned over to press a quick kiss to Henry’s forehead, tousling his hair for good measure before quickly squeezing her way out of the booth. 

Henry trailed behind her with an indignantly drawn out ‘ _ moooooom _ ’, and Killian finally followed, thankful that neither of the Swans could see his face. More specifically, the way he couldn’t tear his eyes away from that final photo.

Henry appeared in the foreground, a finger hooked in each cheek and his tongue sticking out, but in the background, well… There’s a word for the way Killian was gazing at Emma in that picture and the word was  _ besotted _ . Funny thing was, the camera had captured Emma looking at Killian exactly the same way.

-/- 

“All rise.”

At the sound of the bailiff’s voice, Killian felt a surge of adrenaline flood his system. This was it, the moment they’d been working toward for months. He stood slowly and with as much dignity as he could muster considering he felt as though he was about to burst out of his skin.

“December 23, 2016. The Court will begin its docket.” Judge Merlin straightened the stack of papers in front of him and opened the top case file. “Calling cause number 2016-362-0815, ‘In the Interest of Henry Swan’. Are all parties present and ready to proceed?”

“Petitioner is here and ready, Your Honor.” He allowed himself a moment of pride at the steadiness of his own voice, his years in practice having taught him to project composure no matter the state of nerves.

Another voice sounded from across the aisle. “Sister Blue of the Second Star Children’s Home here and ready, Your Honor.”

“You may be seated.” The judge paused a few seconds until the sounds of shuffling feet and creaking chairs had subsided. “Let the record reflect that I, the presiding Judge of this Court, have read and familiarized myself with the contents of Sister Blue’s reports, both prior to and post-placement, as well as the Petitioner’s affidavit, criminal background results and letters of recommendation. Such documents are hereby admitted as evidence in this cause. Sister Blue, is there any relevant information that you wish to add to your formal report at this time?”

Killian felt Emma tense beside him as the Sister stood to address the judge again.

“No, Your Honor. I stand by my conclusions.”

That was good. Killian had read the reports and they’d all been very much in Emma’s favor. Still, she grasped his wrist underneath the counsel table, a slight tremor in her hand.

“Very well. Mr. Jones, you and your client please approach the bench. Bring Henry up here with you, too.” 

Emma’s grip on his wrist tightened to bone-crushing. He turned to her and ducked his head until she met his eyes, giving her his most encouraging smile. After a breath, she finally nodded, released her death-grip on him and stood. Together, Killian, Emma and Henry moved to stand before the judge’s bench. 

Judge Merlin closed the file folder and fixed his steady gaze on Emma. “Ms. Swan?” 

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“This isn’t like a wedding. There are no official vows or ceremony for an adoption, but since this is probably the happiest kind of case that I ever get to handle in family court, I’m going take a moment to make a little speech. Now I understand that this case is special in that you are not only Henry’s prospective adoptive mother, you are also his biological mother as well. Is that right?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Parenthood is a magical thing, Ms. Swan. It supersedes definitions of blood or law, and in its best form drives you to do whatever it takes to give your child his or her best chance. That is, to act in the child’s best interest. Biology can make you a mother, this gavel here in my hand can make you the legal custodian of a child, but only love can make you a  _ mom _ . Do you love Henry, Ms. Swan? Do you want to be his mom?”

Emma gave a shaky exhale and swiped discreetly under her eye, then squared her shoulders and answered resolutely. “I do, Your Honor. More than I ever thought possible.”

Judge Merlin smiled and turned his attention to Henry. “How about you, young man. Do you love Ms. Swan? Do you want her to be your mom?”

Henry beamed. “Yes! I mean - yes, Your Honor, sir.”

The judge nodded in approval and focused back on Emma once more. “Then the Court finds that the petition of Emma Swan for the legal adoption of the child Henry Swan is in the best interest of said child, and such petition is hereby granted. Mr. Jones, please take the Court’s file downstairs to the clerk’s office to get your official copies of the Order. You are all dismissed, and if I may, I’d like to wish a very merry Christmas to the Swan family.”

With a wink of the judge’s eye and a rap of his gavel, it was finished. Henry practically lept into Emma’s arms, squeezing tight as she rested her tear-streaked cheek on top of his head. Killian strode across the aisle to shake Sister Blue’s hand in thanks, giving the new little family a moment of relative privacy. Soon, the bailiff was calling the next case and Killian had to usher them out to the hallway with Emma’s arm wrapped across Henry’s shoulders trapping him to her side. 

Outside the decorum of the courtroom, there was more hugging, of course. Henry and Emma both hugged Sister Blue as she took her leave. Henry hugged Killian who couldn’t resist hoisting the laughing boy and swinging him around in a circle. As he set the lad’s feet back to earth, a soft voice caught his attention.

“My turn?” 

There was a teasing curl to Emma’s lips, but as Killian took her in his arms (because of bloody  _ course _ it was her turn - it would always be her turn), she seemed to melt into him as though she’d been holding her breath for the last three months and was finally able to let it out, to let go of everything. Her arms fit perfectly around his ribs, her head at the exact right level to tuck beneath his jaw, and he wanted nothing more than to stay there, to close his eyes and breath her in and linger in this moment. Yet, it wasn’t his moment, it was  _ theirs _ , so he swallowed hard and unwrapped one arm from Emma’s shoulders using it to gesture to Henry.

“Come on, lad. Group hug, aye?”

Somehow, though, as he pulled Henry to his side, the three of them forming a small circle of arms and smiles, the moment managed to congeal into something better. Something complete.

A heartbeat passed, then two, then three before the spell was finally broken by a loud gurgling rumble from Henry’s stomach. 

“Whoa!” Emma pulled back and ruffled Henry’s hair. “I guess I better feed this guy. We were both too nervous to eat this morning. Breakfast seems like a good first official act of motherhood, right? Then we need to go pick up some groceries and finishing wrapping presents so we can spend all day tomorrow cooking.”

That got Killian’s attention. “You’re  _ cooking _ ? All day?”

“Don’t act so shocked. Just because I  _ don’t  _ cook doesn’t mean that I  _ can’t _ .”

Henry tugged on Killian’s coat sleeve. “You’re coming over for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow, right Mr. Jones?”

“I’m not your mum’s attorney any more, so ‘Killian’ will do. But, as loathe as I am to miss a chance to sample your mother’s culinary prowess, I haven’t actually been invited.”

In a flash, Henry rounded on Emma, lower lip protruding and eyes wide. “Mom, can Killian come over for Christmas Eve dinner?”

Killian chuckled to himself and as subtly as possible extended his fist to bump the boy’s knuckles, muttering ‘well played, lad’ under his breath. 

Emma crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. “Well, I  _ was _ going to invite him, but now I’m not so sure. I think you two are bad influences on each other.” 

As man and boy only grinned unabashedly at her, she looked heavenward and shook her head, a small smile of her own tickling at the corners of her mouth. “My place at 7:00.”

-/-

Turkey and all the trimmings followed by a highly competitive round of Mario Kart ( _“Bloody hell, Swan, you can’t just throw an elbow like that. Bad form!_ ) combined with the excitement of the past couple of days and promise of Christmas on the morrow, soon had Henry dozing off in Emma’s arm chair, his soft snores barely audible as strains of a musical number from _White Christmas_ played in the background. Emma smiled at her son over the top of her mug of hot chocolate, sighing wistfully as she set the mug down and moved to rouse him.

She managed bring him to just enough of a state of consciousness for her to walk the bleary-eyed boy to his room mumbling something that may have been ‘Merry Christmas.’  A few minutes later Emma reemerged to resume her cocoa and her place on the sofa next to Killian. 

“He basically face-planted onto the bed. I did manage to wrestle his shoes off and throw a blanket over him at least. I’ll get better at this mom stuff eventually.” She huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

Killian tried to reassure her that she was doing a fine job, but Emma only hummed in response, her pensive expression half-hidden by her mug as she took a long sip. 

They settled into silence and watched the movie for a bit, though Killian found himself distracted by the way Emma seemed to be incrementally scooting closer to him. By the time the couple on-screen had been maneuvered by their friends into a late night tete-a-tete, Emma’s thigh was pressed flush against his, her shoulder leaning into his arm. One old-fashioned fake yawn from him and they’d be properly snuggling. As much as he wanted to make the move, he sensed an uneasiness about Emma that made him worry. 

“Everything alright, Swan?”

“It’s…” she sighed, setting her mug on the coffee table. “It’s been a  _ day _ . This has all been such an emotional ride and now that it’s over, I’m kind of having a hard time winding down from it. It's like I've been dreaming about this future and it's finally here and it's real and it's starting right now. It's a lot to process. Does that make sense?”

Killian turned fully toward her, his expression soft. “Well, I suppose you could do as the song Mr. Crosby just sang suggests and count your blessings to help you sleep.”

Emma laughed lightly. “Well, I’ve got one big 10 year-old ball of blessing passed out down the hall.”

Killian smiled in return. “Aye, he’s a remarkable lad. What was it he said at Granny’s that first trip? 

“That it’s never the wrong time for rocky road?”

“That it’s never too late to find your family. I count it as a blessing that I was able to have a small part in helping the two of you find each other.”

“It's not too late for you either, you know. We’ll put our two ‘bloody brilliant’ minds together and come up with something.”

She chucked him on the shoulder good-naturedly and while her failed imitation of his accent was amusing, Killian wasn’t quite ready to lighten the mood. He’d held his tongue, kept his feelings to himself for as long as he could, but tonight… Now that her case was over and Emma was about to embark on her happily ever after with her son, it somehow felt like his last chance. 

“Emma, I…”

“What? I thought we agreed there was no giving up?” She shifted away from him and her back went stiff - sure signs she was readying herself to raise her guard again, and he cursed himself for putting that edge of worry in her eyes.

“It isn't that. It's…” He took a deep breath and steeled himself to lay his heart at her feet, not knowing whether his confession would make things worse or infinitely better. “I lost my mother when I was too young to remember much, and then my father was barely around and finally he left as well. But it was alright because I had Liam - my Liam - and he was everything to me. Brother, Father, bossy mother hen.” Killian smiled sadly at the memory.

“When he passed, I resigned myself to the idea that I would always be alone. That’s how I was meant to be, and that was alright, too. Look out for yourself and you never get hurt, aye? And for a long time it worked quite well for me. Until one day it didn't.”

Emma had gone completely still, her gaze focused downward at her hands in her lap, but she wasn’t running away. Not yet, at least. He took both her hands in his, gently caressing her palms with his thumbs, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and almost disbelieving, but they held the tiniest hint of a spark and it was enough to give him the courage to continue.

“One day this blond tornado blew into my office and turned my world upside down. And then I got to know her and her lovely son, and suddenly I… I don't feel alone anymore. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that while it would still mean the world to me to find my half-brother, I no longer feel the same sense of urgency about it. You and Henry have given me the chance to be a part of something  _ good _ , and I didn't think I'd ever be capable of that again. That is, until I met you.”

Never taking his eyes off hers, Killian lifted Emma’s hand and brushed a chaste kiss to the inside of her wrist. She blinked rapidly, the delicate lines of her throat shifting as she swallowed and he feared he’d gone too far. He hadn’t meant to push her, only to thank her. He released her hands, letting them settle back into her lap. 

“Emma, I want you to know that I’m not saying any of this because I expect something from you. Your friendship is priceless to me and I would be honored to continue as your friend, just as it has been an honor to have you as my client-”

“I'm not your client anymore.” The words tumbled from Emma’s lips as though she didn’t quite realize she’d said them, and she immediately clapped a hand to her mouth. 

Killian felt as though his heart were being crushed by an invisible hand. He let his head drop forward, scratching roughly at the back of his neck, and moved to stand, but the sudden grasp of Emma’s hand on his arm stilled him. 

“Wait! Sorry that was the wrong place to start.” She let go of his arm to scrub her hand down her face. “I really suck at this.”

“Emma, it's alright. You don't have to-”

“I meant to say that…” She exhaled heavily and Killian forced himself to meet her eyes. “I'm not your client anymore, so it'd be okay if we were maybe  _ more _ than that. If you want to.” Her smile was nervous but hopeful, a tenuous little thing that blossomed into its full beauty as Killian felt his own features mirror hers. “Because if I'm really counting my blessings here, I'd definitely count you.”

“And I, you.” 

Killian sighed happily, finally wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side as he’d wanted to do - had that only been minutes ago? 

Emma chuckled as she nestled her head against his chest. “Took you long enough. I’ve been hinting since we started the movie.” Killian could feel the smile in her voice when she spoke next. “So this is okay?” She walked her fingers across his stomach to wrap her arm around his waist.

“Aye, but be gentle with me, Swan. I must admit I’m a bit ticklish.”

“You realize I’m gonna hold that against you later.”

“Darling, you can hold anything you want against me right now.”

He felt her shift against him and she raised her chin to look at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes that had his blood pounding in his ears. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Well that was articulate, but at least he managed what he hoped was a seductive smirk.

She twisted her body toward him, draping a leg over his knee and slowly glided her hands up his chest to toy with the collar of his shirt. “How about this, then?”

The warmth of her breath tickled his lips, as Killian’s own became shallow and quick, and the only coherent thought his addled brain would form was that she was clearly trying to kill him and he couldn’t think of a better way to go. All he could see was the soft curve of her lips, the way her tongue darted out to trace the lower one. Only aware of the flickering heat that radiated from each point of contact between their bodies. His blood had all fled southward, robbing him of his usually quite proficient powers of speech. He must have made some sort of grunting noise of approval because Emma tugged on his collar pulling him ever closer until the tip of her nose traced along the edge of his.

“And this?” Her words were nothing more than a flutter of butterfly wings against his lips, before she threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him.

Heaven. He’d never considered himself a religious person before, but surely this must be what heaven felt like. Gentle and warm, light-headed and nearly giddy with happiness. Like he was a new man, and yet more himself than he’d ever been. Even his own arms felt stronger, more sure with Emma wrapped inside them. For several heartbeats he remained still, content with the simple pleasure of their lips finally meeting. Sweet, far sweeter than even his imaginings, and when he did move his lips against hers, it was careful, reverent almost.

Ah, but his Swan was as much a siren as an angel. He broke the kiss, opening his eyes and pulling back only enough to see her face to make sure she felt as he did. It only took a second for him to note her lust darkened eyes and the way her teeth sank into her lip before he pounced. 

God he loved her. He loved the warm press of her body as he scooped her up and settled her in his lap. The way they fit together perfectly. He loved the way she smiled against his lips before hungrily devouring him, her tongue seeking his then coyly slipping away to make him chase her. But chase her he would, the bloody minx, because he couldn’t get enough. 

She leaned back, pulling him down on top of her, but with the way they’d been sitting the angle was all wrong. He landed with his face between her breasts, not that he minded in the slightest, but he wasn’t quite done plundering her mouth yet, and so he stood to get into a better position as Emma scooted backward to rest her head on a throw pillow against the arm of the couch. She dropped one foot to the floor, hitching her other knee up, and he found himself completely arrested by the sight spread before him. She was an absolute vision, her tangled blonde hair spilling over the arm of the couch, eyes sparkling and crinkling at the corners as she smiled at him with kiss-reddened lips. Those three important words that he hadn’t yet said to her tingled at the tip of his tongue, but he still didn’t know if she was ready to hear them. He already couldn’t believe the way the fates or the heavens had smiled on him this evening and he didn’t want to strain his luck.

He must’ve paused for too long because her smile faded slightly and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “Killian?”

“You are simply too tempting for your own good, love. I was taking a moment to count my blessings I suppose. 

“Well are you done yet? Because I’d really like you to be kissing me right now.”

And kiss her he did. He lay down atop her, his hips in the cradle of her thighs, and kissed her for all he was worth. No, scratch that. For all  _ she _ was worth. For nothing in all his worthless existence could possibly compare to her. To the softness of her lips, the taste of her skin as he traced her collarbone with his tongue, the scratch of her nails against his scalp, the welcoming heat of her body that he could feel even through her clothes and his as they rocked together. Reveling in each other. Whispering nonsense into each other’s skin. 

“We should-” She hummed in pleasure as he nipped at the pulse of her neck. “Mmmm...probably stop.  _ Oh.  _  Before we can’t.”

“Aye, love.” She rolled her hips against him and he groaned low in the back of his throat. “Though you’re making it quite difficult.”

She chuckled underneath him, the movement pressing her breasts tantalizingly against his chest. She surprised him reaching down to grab his arse and pull his hips down tightly into hers, grinding him against her. 

“Don’t you mean, I’m making it  _ hard _ ?”

“That was a terrible pun, Swan. Do it again.” He inclined his head to nuzzle beneath her jaw, dusting a light kiss here and there.

“You mean make a bad joke? Or  _ this _ .” She swirled her hips in a dirty grind, groping his arse with both hands this time.

_ Bloody buggering hell. _ “You are a wicked, wicked woman.” Killian kissed her, long and deep, then pulled away with a frustrated groan. “But we really do need to stop.”

He sighed and raised himself up off of her, giving her space enough to shift her legs so that when he sat back down she could drape them across his lap. He offered her a hand and she took it, pulling herself up to sitting. She grabbed a cushion to wedge behind her back, while Killian stroked his hand up and down her thigh, unable to stop touching her completely.

Emma leaned up and he pressed an innocent (by comparison at least) kiss to his mouth. 

“It’s for the best. I wouldn’t want our first time together to be some frantic, whispered tryst on the couch.”

Emma laughed and raised an eyebrow. “First time?”

Killian offered her a devilish grin, and raised a brow of his own. Perhaps he couldn’t indulge the baser urges of his body tonight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little bit of fun.  Try to rile her up just a bit more. He glanced down the hall in the direction of Henry’s room, listening for any sign that the lad might be awake before responding, but all was silent.

“Yes, first time. I’m in this for the long haul, love. Don’t think for a moment I’ll ever tire of you. But the first time I make love to you, Swan, I want to savor it. I want to worship every inch of you with my hands and tongue, draw every possible sound of pleasure from that gorgeous mouth of yours until you cry my name as you come apart with me buried deep inside you.”

He concluded with his most lecherous smirk taking moment to enjoy the darkening of her eyes, the quickening of her breath.

“You make a solid case there, counselor. But may I submit a counter-offer?”

Decidedly intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. “Do go on.”

She grabbed his hand where it caressed her thigh and moved it higher, closer to where he so desperately wanted to touch her. 

She scrunched her nose fetchingly and shrugged. “How about just a little bit of super-quiet hand stuff now-” She traced a hand down his chest and palmed him over his jeans. “-and we save the ‘savoring’ for later?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” he growled, and with a lightning fast move that left her giggling against his mouth, he was pressing her into the couch again.

-/-

Killian awoke Christmas morning with a crick in his neck and a smile on his face. He pulled the blanket up over his head to block out the light coming from the kitchen. He’d been having the most beautiful dream, specifically the exquisite contortion of Emma’s features last night as he’d worked her higher and higher, the way her lips parted in a silent cry as she fell to pieces under his touch. So distracted was he reliving the previous night’s amorous activities, that it didn’t at first occur to him that something was wrong.

Emma was not with him, but that made sense. They’d agreed she should sleep in her own bed last night, lest Henry awake early and find them together. But the light was on in the kitchen, which meant someone was awake. If someone was awake, then why couldn’t he hear anyone? If it were Emma, she’d be rattling around making coffee. Were it Henry, there would surely be a flurry of activity and the tearing open of wrapping paper.

He strained his ears and finally made out the sound of whispering coming from down the hall. A minute more and Emma and Henry appeared, fully dressed and with strangely serious expressions on their faces. Killian sat up and Emma smiled at him awkwardly.

“Hey, um, we were just about to wake you up.”

Killian yawned, scratching lazily at his chest. “What’s going on, Swan?” His sleep muddled brain couldn’t make sense of any of it, but a sensation of dread was slowly creeping up his spine.

“Nothing, nothing. We just-” she glanced at Henry before turning back to Killian. “We’re just going out for a little mother-son bonding. You can crash here for a while longer if you want to. I’ll leave you the spare key. Or if you want to go home and shower or something…”

She seemed to be floundering and Henry was looking anywhere but at him. Killian’s blood ran cold as the pieces finally began to click into place. Swan may have been interested in  _ something more _ with him, but he was still an outsider. An interloper on their first Christmas as a family, and they wanted him to leave.

“Right,” he answered finally, barely recognizing his own voice. “Right, yeah, I’ll just be off then.”

He stood and neatly folded the throw blanket he’d slept under. Grabbing his car keys from the end table, he moved to walk past Emma to the front door, but she stepped in front of him.

“Will you-”

Killian tried to step around her, anxious to get away from the apartment and the crushing disappointment he felt, but Emma grabbed his hand and spun him around to face her. The way she was looking at him was so foreign - neither happy nor sad nor angry, but  _ intense _ \- and it gave him pause. 

“Would you please meet us for brunch at Granny’s in a few hours?” Her eyes still held the same intensity, but her voice held that note of hopeful vulnerability that he was powerless against.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, but quickly shook it off and nodded.

“Very well, Swan. I’ll be there.”

-/-

He almost backed out three times. As he took his shower in his own apartment, he convinced himself they had only invited him out of pity and he wouldn’t burden them with his presence. As he dressed himself, styling his hair into the calculated mess that Emma seemed to fancy, he told himself he was angry. If Emma had wanted to spend Christmas alone with Henry, she could’ve bloody well told him the night before, rather than engaging in their secretive skulking that morning. It was the guilty behavior that hurt him, not her desire to spend time with her son. Finally, as he drove to the diner, he called himself an idiot, a bloody fool for ever thinking that he and Emma and Henry could possibly ever be a… no, he wouldn’t even let himself think the word. 

As he walked through the doors of the diner, however and saw their glowing faces he knew for a fact he’d been a fool. For not trusting her, for letting his old insecurities get the better of him. There on the table sat a small package no bigger than a deck of cards and wrapped in shiny green paper, tied with a golden bow. Green and gold, just like Emma. The woman in question was beaming at him, lighting up the room as if she were the sunrise itself, and Henry beside her practically bouncing in his seat.

“Merry Christmas!” they chimed in unison as he sat down across from them. 

“What’s this?” Killian asked, fully aware of the awe in his voice and not caring in the slightest.

“Open it!” Henry urged, nudging the box to Killian’s side of the table.

Killian picked it up gingerly, looking to Emma for confirmation and she nodded vigorously, her smile turning slightly nervous.

Killian slid the bow off the end and tore into the paper, not having the faintest clue what to expect, but his heart raced in anticipation nonetheless. But as he opened the lid, his face fell, a divot forming between his brows as his face twisted in confusion. In the bottom of the box lay a small piece of paper where in Emma’s erratic scrawl was written an address, a phone number and the name “L. P. Dakkar”.

“I don’t understand…” He raised his eyes to meet Emma’s again and she reached a hand across the table to take his.

“It’s him. It’s Liam. Killian, I found him.”

Killian’s eyes widened, his expression changing from confusion to utter disbelief. “This is him? This-” he glanced down at the paper again, seeing it with new eyes. “This is my brother?”

She nodded vigorously, giving his hand a squeeze. “Uh-huh.”

He didn’t respond for a moment unable to do anything but stare between her and Henry in amazement, a grin splitting his face. “Emma, you’re a bloody miracle worker. When did - How?”

“It was Henry,” she answered, smiling down at the boy. “Well, it was you when you reminded me last night of what Henry said. About it never being too late. I got to thinking. We never did check the adoption records for Liam, because I knew from experience how rare it is for a teenager to get adopted. It was a long shot, but like Henry said, it’s never too late, right?”

She shrugged as if she hadn’t just done the impossible and continued her tale. “So, I did a court records search on my laptop last night after you fell asleep, and I found him. Liam Patrick Jones was adopted at the age of 17 by a man named Nemo Dakkar. There was a name change filed with the adoption. That’s why we couldn’t find him, Killian. We were looking for Liam Patrick Jones when the person we needed to find was Liam Patrick Dakkar.”

“So then this morning when you and Henry snuck off?”

“Operation Finding Nemo!” Henry piped up. “You know, because of his adopted dad’s name?”

“What Henry means is we went to my office so I could do a little bit of legally questionable research that you really shouldn’t ask too many questions about. I got an address and Henry wrapped the box. Merry Christmas?”

Unable to contain himself any longer, Killian slid out of the booth and moved to Emma’s side, taking her hand and pulling her up into a fierce embrace.

“Swan, I can’t begin to thank you for this.” Her hair muffled his voice as he held her to him. “Just knowing that he’s out there and that he has a  _ home _ . That he wasn’t left alone in the world…” Killian’s voice cracked as hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and Emma pulled back still clutching at his forearms as she studied his face.

“You have to promise to tell me how it goes. Promise you’ll call later?”

He shook his head bemusedly. “Whatever do you mean, love?”

“Aren’t you about to go plug that address into your GPS and find your family?”

As he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the curve of her jaw, it occurred to him that she had no idea. After everything, she still had no idea. Very well, he’d simply have to spell it out for her. “Emma, this is an amazing gift you’ve given me, and I absolutely intend to use it, but I expect my half-brother would rather spend his Christmas with his family, now that I know he has one. And for the record, I’d prefer to spend my Christmas with mine.”

She tilted her head, her features forming an adorable scowl. “But you just said -”

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. You and Henry are all the family I need.”

She didn’t answer. Only leaned toward him, her eyes falling to his lips as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“Are you guys gonna kiss for real this time?”

Killian froze, his eyes closing as he laughed under his breath. “Yes, Henry. I’m about to kiss your mum. If she’ll have me?” 

He looked up at her and her all-too-familiar eye roll and soft smile were all the confirmation he needed.

“Good,” Henry affirmed. “Can I go play Ms. Pacman? I don’t really want to watch this.”

Emma laughed and looked over at her boy. “There’s a few quarters in my purse, kid. Knock yourself out.”

After a quick bit of rummaging in Emma’s handbag, the lad scampered off, the sound of the adults’ laughter fading in his wake. 

“Now where were we, Swan?” Killian asked with a leer, already leaning in to claim her lips, but Emma squeezed her eyes closed as if in pain and stopped him with a finger to his mouth.

She cautiously opened one eye, then the other. “There’s, um, there’s one more thing.”

“And what’s that, love?” Killian’s placed his hands at her waist and pulled her into him, sure that nothing she could say would dampen his mood.

“I, um -” she licked her lips nervously and took a deep breath. “I may possibly, maybe befeelinglikeI’minlovewithyou,” she muttered, the words spilling out in a jumble. 

“What?” Killian’s heart stopped, god only knows what his face was doing, but he was afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

Emma reached up and cupped his chin. “I love you.”

In an instant his lips met hers, sweetly, passionately drinking her in as her hand drifted up his jaw to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. She rose up on her tiptoes as she pressed closer to him and he lifted her off her feet, nearly crushing her in his embrace as their lips moved in perfect counterpoint.

Slowly he brought her back to earth, but even before their kiss fully broke, he whispered the words against her mouth. “I love you, too.”

Then she giggled. Emma bloody Swan giggled and smiled up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They separated (at least as much as they could make themselves), paying some heed to the idea of propriety as they were very much still in public. Killian’s arm still draped around Emma’s waist and her head rested on his shoulder as they turned together to watch Henry, blissfully unaware and shouting enthusiastically at the colorful 8-bit ghosts that chased his character around the gaming screen.

“Looks like we all got a family for Christmas after all, doesn’t it, Swan?”

Emma sighed contentedly. “Yeah, Jones. I guess we did.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** In case anybody was wondering, the last name "Dakkar" came from the Jules Verne books. Captain Nemo at some point introduces himself as "Prince Dakkar".
> 
> Thank you to Krystal for reading through bits of this and helping me fix it. Bonus thanks to tnlph and ilovemesomekillianjones for strongly encouraging me to finish the thing. 
> 
> Sooooo.... How'd ya like part 2?


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